


Smoke Sapphire - sides

by Thorinsmut



Series: Smoke Sapphire [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Complete, Fluff, M/M, Politics, Side Stories, Smut, cute families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-07 21:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorinsmut/pseuds/Thorinsmut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bits and pieces to fill out and wrap up loose ends in Smoke Sapphire.</p><p>Chapter 1 - Visiting - Bilbo calls on Lady Dis<br/>Chapter 2 - Bath - Bofur's been working and Bilbo helps him get clean<br/>Chapter 3 - overwatered - Bilbo visits the royal library and talks with Leis<br/>Chapter 4 - clearing up - fall arrives in the Blue Mountains<br/>Chapter 5 - a push - Dis and Dwalin need to talk<br/>Chapter 6 - hair - Bilbo's curls are getting out of control<br/>Chapter 7 - the Shire - Bilbo and Bofur return to the Shire</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Visiting

**Author's Note:**

> I was not happy with the arrangement I had previously, so Smoke Sapphire has been marked as finished, the previous side story fic has been renamed and turned into the Nori/Dwalin companion piece, and this fic has been posted to wrap up loose ends.  
> There's no real plot here, just bits of fluff and headcanons.  
> I apologize for all those who have had to witness my flailing around. I'm making everything up as I go along.  
> Thank you for your patience,  
> <3,  
> Ts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was previously posted with Smoke Sapphire, but I didn't feel good about that decision. I feel better having it here.  
> Thank you for putting up with my indecision.

Bilbo shared one last look with Mirra, both of them nervous, before they were announced in to see Lady Dis.

Bilbo was wearing his best clothes, the new ones he'd gotten commissioned at the same time as Bofur so they were made in layers in the Dwarven style. Mirra was in her best too, matched hammers on either side of her belt – both a weapon and a mark of her profession.

Bilbo held his basket tight. It wasn't the _Dwarven_ custom, but it just didn't feel _right_ to come calling without bringing a little something. He'd made little sandwiches filled with thin-sliced salt beef and tender radish and parsley and spinach leaves from his container garden.

Mirra's red-gold braids were absolutely lovely today, more complex than the working braids she tended to wear, and the comparison made Bilbo feel more self-conscious about his messy hair. His curls were absolutely out of control but Bofur's sad eyes whenever he suggested cutting them held him back.

Mirra had come with him instead of Bofur because Bofur was working – he'd been bored and gotten himself hired back in the mines. He didn't need the _money_ , he wanted to mine because he wanted to mine. The stone called to him.

He'd offered to take the day off to come with Bilbo when Lady Dis' invitation was delivered, but there was something important going on with the mines that Bilbo didn't particularly understand but Bofur had been looking forward to – so he brought Mirra instead. The invitation had invited 'Bilbo Baggins and a guest', so it should be fine. Mirra wasn't Bofur, but with her he _did_ feel he had a friend at his back.

The guard at the door seemed vaguely familiar, Bilbo wondered if he'd seen them at the palace – not that he'd been paying too close attention to the guards – they seemed to recognize him, though, and opened the door to announce them.

The private apartments of the palace were much closer and homier than the public audience portions. Lady Dis smiled politely as she greeted them. She was wearing a dress of olive green and pale yellow and she'd done something with her eyes – a touch of paint on the lids that made the blue seem darker, muddier, _less like Thorin_. She was still uncomfortably familiar, but less so.

“You didn't have to.” Bilbo said quietly as he clasped her hand.

“and yet there was no reason not to.” she answered, turning a curious eye toward Mirra.

“Bofur sends his regrets that he couldn't make it. He's working today.” Bilbo explained, “Lady Dis, may I introduce Mirra, Bofur's sister by marriage...”

“Mirra daughter of Jirra at your service, my Lady.” Mirra said, bowing deeply, rising with a hand across her rounding belly to support it.

“Ah, the Dwarf bold enough to claim the right of _khidazhâl_ against Dwalin.” Lady Dis said approvingly, “And please, this is a social visit. 'Dis' will be enough.” She swept them through into a comfortable and _lived in_ sitting room where they met princess Leis. She was small, about Bilbo's height, not full grown yet Bilbo would guess, and subdued. She had Kili's big brown eyes without his laughter filling them, curling blond hair just a few shades darker than Fili's and just as beautiful, but without his confident swagger.

…and why _wouldn't_ she be subdued if she were constantly compared to her lost brothers?

Bilbo gave the basket of sandwiches to Dis, explaining the Hobbit tradition, “They're simple,” he apologized, “just salt beef and fresh greens from my garden...”

“...your garden?” Dis asked, opening her sandwich to see the leaves, the question clear on her face.

“Mr. Baggins is doing his level best to turn my home into a Hobbit hole, all covered in green.” Mirra explained.

“You _are_ within the great cavern?” Dis seemed surprised, and Mirra answered with something about the stone that seemed to let the Lady know exactly where in the great cavern her house was. Bilbo _still_ couldn't get the hang of navigating in Nurgathol.

“How can you make things grow underground?” she asked Bilbo.

“It's simple enough.” Bilbo said, “I won't be growing any tomatoes or melons of course, and nothing will be setting any size records, but with a little care to maximize what sun we _get_ I can grow a few things. Plants _like_ to grow – I could probably grow things here in the palace if I tried.” he mused, “Probably no more than moss near the skylights but _still_...”

Mirra chuckled slightly and Bilbo stopped as Mirra and Lady Dis shared a look.

“Like a Dwarf with our crafts.” Mirra commented.

“I see that.” Dis answered, a near-smile on her lips.

Bilbo _tried_ not to be offended, but it did feel a bit like they were laughing at him.

“Forgive us, Master Baggins.” Dis said, “It is good to know that you are settling in comfortably amongst us.” her too-familiar eyes turned distant, “Erebor would have _bloomed_ for you... such a thing it would have been to see, if...” she trailed off.

“Do you miss Erebor?” Mirra asked gently.

“I was a _child_ I can hardly recall it.” Lady Dis' voice and expression turned hard, mirroring Thorin when he was upset and Bilbo steeled himself to not flinch away. She was not _him_ , she did not even particularly _look_ like him today.

“That mountain took my _sons_. I will have _nothing_ to do with that place.”

Mirra made a quiet sound of sympathy, and Dis closed her eyes to take a deep breath, composing herself. Leis shoulders had curled in at the mention of her brothers, poor dear she was still mourning them too. He might have spoken to her though he wasn't sure what to _say_ , but the quiet princess looked pointedly away from him when she saw him watching.

Lady Dis opened her eyes again, and gave a polite smile as she changed the subject. They talked a bit about Bilbo's gardening, and Mirra and Lady Dis discussed Mirra's inherited claim on the rock – apparently it was far larger than Bilbo had realized, mostly unworked. They discussed trade and the productivity of the mines and Mirra's children. They discussed food, which Bilbo was more comfortable adding to the discussion about.

They talked about Mirra's smithwork and Lady Dis sighed over the fact that she was normally too busy to practice with her axe as much as she liked. Bilbo talked about his writing and was offered free reign of the part of the royal library written in westron, which he accepted gratefully. He kept himself busy, but it would be nice to have things to read when Bofur was away at work.

It was, overall, not too stressful of a visit. That Dis was more relaxed and did not look so much like Thorin today helped, and Mirra's supportive presence helped, and the fact that Bilbo was not being interrogated helped the most of all. They shared a white wine with the sandwiches Bilbo had brought and simply _talked_ , and Bilbo had been at enough tense teas with his Baggins relatives to be able to deal with it gracefully.

Lady Dis did bring the conversation back around to Erebor eventually.

“You'll be emigrating back to Erebor once the new baby is old enough...” She'd said to Mirra, not quite a question.

“No, I don't think I will. It wouldn't be going _back,_ for me.” Mirra disagreed gently, “My family is Blue Mountains for _generations_... and I know where my loyalty lies, my Lady. I would not trade a fair rule for gold.” Her gaze was bright and direct, and Dis drew back slightly from it, surprised.

“...me?” Lady Dis did not seem to believe it, laughed slightly, “A penniless displaced princess, who wears...” she plucked at the gray and white stone beads that decorated her wrists and neck, “common quartz.”

“A _Queen._ ” Mirra answered, leaning forward, “a just ruler and one who would never _dream_ of squandering her resources on mere decoration.”

Dis did not seem to have an answer for that, and Mirra sat back.

“You hold _far_ more loyalty in the streets of Nurgathol than I think you realize, my Lady, if you will forgive my saying so.” Mirra said.

“...Dis...” The Lady corrected quietly, “Please, there are few enough left who will call me that...”

“Dis.” Mirra corrected herself, nodding in a slight bow to the older darrowdam, the 'my lady' unspoken but loud in her silence.

And the topic of conversation was changed again to something lighter.

 

They were bringing their visit to a close and Lady Dis was asking something technical about smithwork to Mirra when Leis sidled up to Bilbo shyly, not quite looking at him, and Bilbo had dealt with enough shy fauntlings to know not to frighten her off.

He smiled at her, to show that he was paying attention, but he didn't speak.

“Could moss _really_ be grown in the palace?” she asked softly.

“I believe so.” he answered gently, “if it were near one of the brighter skylights.”

She pondered that for a moment before she turned her big brown eyes on him, “How?” she asked... and he could have taken _hours_ explaining how to get the soil and the light and the moisture _just right_ for moss, and how to seed it, or...

He patted her hand gently, “Would you like me to bring you a pot of moss with instructions next time I visit?” he asked.

She nodded hard, giving him the first smile he'd seen on her face, and her eyes held just a touch of the sparkle he'd known from Kili.


	2. Bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bathtime, communication, and a light sprinkling of smut.

Bofur relaxed back in the hot water, letting it soothe away the satisfying ache of a good day's work and smiling as Bilbo fussed over him.

“Gravel.” Bilbo said, “ _How_ do you get gravel in your hair? _You wear a hat!_ ”

Bofur shrugged and tipped his head back to grin at the Hobbit as he finished unbraiding and shaking the grit out of his hair for him, making sure it didn't get in the tub. Bilbo leaned over him to share a quick peck, smiling back at him.

Bofur grinned bigger as Bilbo began to take his own clothes off to join him. The only thing that could make a bath after a long day's work better was a Hobbit to share it with.

Bilbo still turned pink around the ears when Bofur watched him undress, but at least he didn't tend to get embarrassed and make him look away anymore – and that was good, because Bofur would never get tired of watching that soft skin appear out from under his clothes.

“ _Someone's_ got to scrub your back for you.” Bilbo told him, prodding him to get him to shift forward so he could climb into the bath behind him.

“I'm _terribly_ dirty.” Bofur agreed, and Bilbo laughed as he joined him. Bofur relaxed into Bilbo's hands, rubbing up and down his back in the warm water – more just to be close and touching than to get him clean.

He asked Bilbo about his garden and the books he'd been reading from the royal library, and Bilbo asked him about the mines. Bilbo was starting to understand more about mining and Bofur was starting to understand more about gardening – but it was clear that neither of them was ever going to be a master of the other's craft.

Bilbo moved Bofur's messy unbraided hair to one side and began kissing the back of his neck, soft warm lips and the occasional gentle nip with his teeth. His arms were wrapped around Bofur now, running up and down his chest and stomach. It was warm and sensual with Bilbo pressed soft and close to his back, and Bofur leaned back against the smaller man, letting himself just soak in what he _still_ could hardly believe he was allowed to have now. He rubbed Bilbo's legs where they came around the sides of him, and his furry feet, and was just _happy_.

“I've been wondering...” Bilbo said eventually, and Bofur hummed quietly to let him know he was listening.

Bilbo nuzzled into Bofur's hair, as if he were hiding his face a little in embarrassment at what he was going to say, and Bofur couldn't help but smile at that.

“Do you think, when we're making love... we'll ever do it the other way? With me in... in you?” He asked hesitantly, and he blushed so hard Bofur could _feel_ the heat of his face against his neck.

Bofur couldn't really be surprised at the question – with how much _Bilbo_ enjoyed taking, and with how eager he was to learn _all_ the different ways they could pleasure each other. Bilbo's past experiences had not been very varied, so of course he would want...

“Come here.” Bofur said, he'd like to be able to _see_ Bilbo for this. He tugged Bilbos arm and the Hobbit came easily around him to settle slippery and warm in his lap, his ears red, and Bofur kissed one of those pretty points gently.

“I've never _liked_ that.” he explained. “It doesn't feel _good_ for me.”

“Oh!” Bilbo's beautiful gray-blue eyes widened in surprise, looking up to the side in thought as if he were trying to understand how that could be. Bofur braced himself to explain that no he _had_ tried it, more than once, and he _didn't_ like it – that it was at very best awkward but _tolerable,_ and at worst...

“Then we won't.” Bilbo said, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Bofur's and his curls falling into dew-sparkling ringlets in the steam of the bath. “I like it enough for _both_ of us.”

“I d... oh.” Bofur realized what Bilbo had _said_ and stopped, smiling. “Aye, that you do.” he agreed, giving his lovely arse a little squeeze and Bilbo laughed a little at him with his eyes sparkling.

“It isn't as though you aren't already the _best_ of everything.” Bilbo said, rubbing his nose softly against Bofur's, “...and it couldn't _possibly_ be as good as your mouth...” he purred, leaning in to brush his lips softly against Bofur's, nipping at them gently until Bofur _had_ to chase after for a proper kiss.

“...good mouth yourself.” he answered, not his most eloquent because a lapful of slippery affectionate Hobbit was _distracting_. Bilbo wasn't experienced at sucking, and he couldn't take all of Bofur, but he was eager and enthusiastic and he was _Bilbo_ and that was a perfection in and of itself.

Bilbo began playing with the gold bars through Bofur's nipples as he moved to Bilbo's neck, sucking lightly on the spots that had the Hobbit hard and squirming against him. It wasn't long before he was lifting Bilbo onto the edge of the tub to use his mouth the way he and Bilbo both loved so much.

“We're going to make a mess of the bathroom again...” Bilbo complained, even as he ran his fingers through Bofur's damp hair to pull him in eagerly.

“Just _one_.” Bofur murmured, nuzzling against the most perfect little cock in the world.

“You always say that and we never do... _oooooh, Bofur_...” Bilbo's voice dropped rough as Bofur sucked him down, and Bofur moaned his encouragement back because he couldn't talk with his mouth full.

He ran his hands over the perfect soft roundness of Bilbo's body, luxuriating in the feel and sound and smell and _taste_ of him, and _very_ glad they still had that vial of oil stashed in here.


	3. overwatered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo visits the royal library and talks with Leis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There should be a mouseover translation of the khuzdul if my html is working properly.

Bilbo sorted through the westron books in the royal library, searching for something to bring home. He still had problems navigating the twisting streets of Nurgathol, but at least he could make his own way from Mirra's home to the palace without help.

In the much larger khuzdul part of the library apprentice scribes were practicing their letters and copying texts. Bilbo _itched_ to get to know it, to learn a new language - he already read several types of Elvish - but he'd been given to know that the fact he even knew it existed was bad enough. He was, apparently, the _only_ non-Dwarf granted full access to even the westron portion of the library. The scribes who worked as librarians were kind enough though, and friendly to another book-lover once they got to know him. He'd already promised to bring in a few of his own books to be copied if he brought them to Nurgathol from the Shire some time.

He wasn't exactly sure when that would happen. He and Bofur hadn't discussed when they'd be leaving the Blue Mountains, but he had Bofur and he had his container garden and there was lots to read in the royal library and he was quite happy to stay around.

Bilbo smiled at the young princess when Leis came peeking into the library. She came to stand beside him, followed in by Maylin who was doing her best impression of her father with folded arms and a scowl. Like her father, though, she was friendly behind her gruff front. She'd come with Nori and Dwalin to have dinner with Mirra and Bombur's family a few times.

Bilbo nodded to them both and continued looking through the books, waiting for whatever Leis wanted to say.

“Mr. Bilbo... can you come look at the moss?” she asked.

“Of course.” He agreed readily, and followed the girls to the part of the palace Leis had chosen for the little dish of moss he'd gifted her, near the royal apartments and in the light of one of the brighter skylights.

“It's going all dark and brown in spots.” Leis explained, pointing at the moss which was, indeed, beginning to die back in spots. It had been doing so _well_ since he brought it to her.

“Have you changed anything about how you treat it?” He asked. It _looked_ like it could be suffering from overwatering.

“No.” she said, big brown eyes pleading.

Bilbo picked up the pretty little mister, glass with brass fittings, he'd had commissioned for her. A quick test of the pump mechanism revealed that it was not releasing any more water than it had new.

It was a gorgeous little piece – he'd asked for a pretty watering can with a fine spray, but the pair of Dwarves who'd made it had gotten inspired and invented the mister for him – inspired by the perfume bottles they sometimes made.

That was one thing about Dwarves, when they wanted to craft something it was best to just stand back and wait to admire the finished piece. They tended to get _enthusiastic._

Bilbo pressed his fingers to the once-vigorously-growing moss, bringing them back damp. He rubbed his fingers together in thought.

“It _seems_ like it's getting too much water.” He said, and Maylin shifted her feet uncomfortably even as Leis expressed her confusion.

“Well if _you_ haven't been overwatering it, is there someone else who might have?” he asked Leis, watching Maylin begin to turn red as Leis protested that everyone knew it was _her_ moss and not to touch it.

“But... how can it have _too much_ water?” Maylin protested, “Isn't more better?”

“ _You_ need water too.” he told her, “But there is a difference between a glass of water when you're thirsty and _drowning_.” He looked back at the poor waterlogged moss, “Plants are living things, just like you and I.”

“...did I kill it?” Maylin's whisper was agonized, and Leis' wide brown eyes turned to her friend.

“Maylin!?” her sorrowed disbelief was obvious, and Maylin wrapped her arms around the slight princess.

“I'm so sorry. I was trying to help, I didn't know. I _will_ make this right, _sannamadel,_ I promise.” she crooned, turning her haunted eyes back to Bilbo, “ _Did I kill it?”_ she demanded.

“Goodness no.” Bilbo assured her, “Moss is extremely hardy. We'll just let it dry out for a day or two and then water it _only_ as much as it needs and it'll spring right back.”

Both girls laughed in relief, Leis interrupting Maylin's further apologies with promises that she would let Maylin water if for her sometimes, and Bilbo excused himself politely and left them to it.

He _still_ had to find a book to read.


	4. clearing up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fall arrives in Nurgathol

Bofur helped clean up the garden for winter – a much smaller job than it would have been in the Shire. The pots that had once been overflowing with growing things were emptied and stacked out of the way and the house returned to looking like a regular Dwarven house.

The plants had lasted much longer than Bofur had expected them to, well after those outside the great cavern had been cut down by the frost, but now cold weather had settled in and Bilbo told him they no longer had enough light even _if_ they hadn't been too cold.

Mirra's younger brothers, Sidgra and Vegdra, had returned from their hunting trip and they were helping too. Bofur had already had to remind them _several times_ of the no-flirting-at-the-Hobbit rule, which they ignored. At least Bilbo had gotten comfortable enough with them by now that he just rolled his eyes when Sidgra flexed at him with a wink while picking heavy things up and Vegdra commented favorably, or when either or both of them pretended to be offended by something the other or Bofur had said and tried their best puppy-eyes on Bilbo for sympathy.

“Bofur won't flirt with us anymore.” Sidgra explained sadly from one side of Bilbo.

“We're heartbroken. We have to search for scraps of affection anywhere we can find them.” Vegdra finished from the other, the brothers giving him matched mournful looks.

“Well you're not finding any _here_.” Bilbo told them sharply, his smoke sapphire eyes laughing as he sent them on to their next task and they pretended to be cut to their hearts.

“What about me?” Bofur asked, and Bilbo pulled him in for a kiss, gentle lips and a soft and hugable Hobbit stretching up on tiptoe to rub noses together.

“ _You_ can always find affection here.” Bilbo promised.

“That's just unfair.” Sidgra said.

“We do all the work and he gets all the love.” Vegdra agreed.

“And they're so _pretty_ together.” Sidgra added.

“...we're pretty together too.” Vegdra observed.

“We _are_.” Sidgra agreed proudly, handing another empty pot to his brother, “Maybe that's the problem – no one can choose between us!” he smoothed the dirty-blond braids that matched his brother's.

“Maybe we should be flirting with them _both together_...” Vegdra suggested, laughing when Bofur broke from kissing Bilbo to glare.

“Go on with you!” Bilbo told them, and they both laughed as they carried their pots away. Bilbo rolled his eyes and gave Bofur one last peck.

“Are they _ever_ serious?” He asked as he handed Bofur a pot.

“Aye, when they're out hunting orcs they are.” he answered. They were fine warriors to make any family proud, grim and deadly when there was an enemy to fight. “But when they're at home? Never.”

Bilbo nodded at that, and they continued clearing away his garden until there was nothing left but the fading limewash on the walls to mark the house as different. It had become a little famous over the summer, a sight to see. The street had been busier than usual with Dwarves wanting to wander past and see what the Hobbit had done within the great cavern. Bilbo had consulted with more than one chef who was interested if _they_ could grow herbs the way Bilbo had. Even Lady Dis had come by to see it – she'd mostly come to see Mirra, but the plants had fascinated her.

And speaking of Mirra – the baby would be coming _any_ time now. She was even rounder than Bofur remembered her getting with the previous babies, and she was not pleased with how limited she found herself working in the forges, too tired to do any but the lightest work and that only for a few hours.

Bombur was, of course, exhibiting his usual mix of pride and terror. Mirra was young and strong and she was carrying well, and she'd never had a problem with the previous babies, but there were always those _stories_ of things gone wrong...

Forra and Sorra and Borra were just thrilled to be getting another sibling, though how much the youngest actually understood was debatable.

Bofur and Bilbo got the garden all cleared away and sat on Bofur's little balcony that felt oddly bare now to have a quiet smoke, huddled close together to stay warm now that they weren't moving.

“Now what?” Bilbo asked, and something in his tone made Bofur think he wasn't asking just about _today_.

“Hmm?” he asked.

“I'd rather not overstay my welcome.” Bilbo explained, “I like it here very much, I'm happy to stay, but...”

“After how long you let me stay with you?” Bofur laughed.

“Well... _true_.” Bilbo chuckled slightly, but his dark gray-blue eyes were still serious, “We just haven't discussed how long we'll be _staying_ here...”

...and of _course_ Bilbo would be missing Bag End. He'd had a little container garden here, but the Shire was his _home_.

“Mirra and Bombur love you, they don't mind us staying as long as you want.” Bofur assured him, “But we can go whenever you want, whenever you need.” Bofur told him. He'd been sent to help people move to Erebor, but it didn't seem like that was going to happen at all with things the way they stood. It wouldn't be too much of a loss if he left, even if he _would_ miss the familiar old mines of the Blue Mountains.

He liked the Shire too. They'd been _happy_ in the Shire.

...and _this_ time it would be even better because he'd be living with Bilbo and not just out of his guest room.

“Honestly?” Bilbo said, cuddling in closer as he looked out at the cold rain that was falling outside the great cavern. “I'd rather not travel in _this_ weather.”

It certainly wasn't the best weather to travel in, and it would only get worse... and Bilbo _wouldn't_ want to be traveling in the snow of winter either...

“So... spring?” Bofur suggested, and Bilbo smiled at him.

“If that works for you?” Bilbo asked, and Bofur nodded. A winter to work in the stone of the mines and see if anyone wanted to go to Erebor – and there would probably be _lots_ of work in the Shire for a strong worker in the spring and summer.

With Bilbo at his side, it all sounded wonderful.

“Good.” Bilbo said, puffing contentedly on his pipe, “I'll have to send letters, though, to make sure Bag End is taken care of over the winter.”

Bofur put an arm around Bilbo, snugging him up close to his side as he kissed the top of the Hobbit's big curly hair.

And he smiled, because _neither_ of them had thought to suggest splitting up for even a _little_ while.


	5. a push

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dis and Dwalin need to talk.

“It's not going to work.” Dwalin rumbled at his side. 

“It _will_ work.” Bilbo assured him yet again, holding tight to his warm basket as they made their way to the palace. Unless he was _very_ wrong, Lady Dis just needed a _little_ nudge and there were no Dwarves willing to push her on it. 

It was not _fair_ , Dwalin serving in her court 'like a beaten dog' as Nori put it. He could understand her grief, but taking it out on a Dwarf who mourned her kin nearly as deeply as she did was not _right._

And Bilbo was already granted concessions she gave to no one else, already she spoke with him of things she let no one else speak of. If there was anyone she'd let call her on it, it might be him.

Bilbo nodded to the guard who protected the private apartments, intending to walk past as he always did – he was well enough known now after all the months he'd been visiting – but this time they stepped out to block his path. 

“Dwalin is not granted the right...” They began, Dwalin making a disgusted huff through his nose. 

“ _Excuse_ me.” Bilbo said, affronted, as he stared the burly guard down, “You have orders to allow myself and my guest in to see Lady Dis, don't you?” 

Their discomfort at the contradictory orders was obvious, but they did not budge, “I... but...” 

“Very well then.” Bilbo said sharply, “ _You_ can be the one to explain to the Lady why I was turned away at her door.” 

The guard glanced toward Dwalin as if searching for help before looking back at Bilbo, who raised an eyebrow, impatiently waiting to be let through.

“Of course, you and the guest of your choosing are granted access, Master Baggins.” they decided, clearly realizing that there was no way they could _win_ in this situation. Bilbo almost felt bad as he thanked them and led Dwalin past. 

Dwalin chuckled slightly, giving him a small smile from the corner of his eye. 

“...still won't work.” he added quietly. 

“Trust me.” Bilbo said, opening his basket so the warm scent of apples and spice could waft out and knocking on the door. 

“Aye, trust you to open the floor and dump us all in the drink.” Dwalin murmured back. 

“It _worked!_ ” Bilbo hissed in his own defense, and then Lady Dis had opened the door. 

“Bilbo...” she started with a small smile, breaking off as she caught sight of Dwalin. She drew herself up, jaw tensing as her too-familiar pale blue eyes flashed hard and cold with anger – so that _all_ Bilbo wanted to do was run. 

Instead he stepped forward with a smile, taking her hand as he told her how very _pleased_ he was to have gotten her invitation. The way he angled himself as he stepped into the doorway had her stepping back and welcoming him in on pure etiquette instinct. 

It was maybe a _bit_ rude of him to have used that against her. If she didn't _like_ him he would very likely have gotten a door slammed in his face. 

Dwalin stuck close behind him into the royal apartments, and they were in. That was the first half of the battle fought and won. 

They stood tense in the entryway, the tension visible in every line of Lady Dis' body as Dwalin bowed deeply to her. 

“My Lady.” He greeted humbly, probably the first words he'd spoken in her presence since his angry outburst when Bilbo was telling his story so many months ago. 

Lady Dis turned and stalked away with no acknowledgment, and Bilbo could not imagine what this must be like for Dwalin – in this place where he had once been counted as kin. 

“Leis!” Lady Dis called, and then something in khuzdul and in an instant the young princess was making her way past them out the door, her eyes wide as she spotted Dwalin.

“Maylin is just outside.” Dwalin murmured to her, giving her a pat on the shoulder in passing, and she nodded to him as she left. 

Bilbo planted a smile on his face and followed Lady Dis into the apartment. She stood in the sitting room where they usually met, her eyes still horribly hard and terrifying, but she had not _yet_ decided to throw them out and that was a good sign. 

“Mirra wished she could come.” Bilbo smiled, “But the new little one, Lorra, sweet little dumpling, is still taking up so much of her time, even with Bombur's help...”

He put his basket on the table, the scent of the little apple turnovers wafting out invitingly as he hesitated on the edge of the seat he normally took. 

“...You must send her my congratulations.” Dis said tightly, her freezing eyes not leaving Dwalin's as she sat stiffly and Bilbo settled into his chair, Dwalin tense with discomfort at his side. 

“If you insist on being here, you will be _silent_.” She told Dwalin coldly, and Dwalin was bowing his head to her – his guilt and grief and loyalty all combining to prevent the warrior from challenging her – but she was not _Bilbo's_ royalty and this state of things was not _right_.

“I'm sorry, Lady Dis.” He said politely, covering the basket to cut off the scent as he stood and collected it, “I was given to understand that I and the guest of _my_ _choosing_ would be welcome here.” a challenge to her hospitality was no small charge, a challenge to her _word_ , to her honor.

She was standing too, now, and her anger was aimed toward him but he _did not_ let himself flinch from the icy pale blue eyes that still haunted his nightmares – less now, but _still._

When she spoke her voice had dropped, deeper and rougher and horribly, _terrifyingly_ , familiar, “You would as me to _welcome_ the one who _failed my sons_...” Her hand shook as she pointed at Dwalin, who turned his face from her, hiding his pain. Lady Dis said no more, seeming at a loss for words, and Bilbo did _not_ run and hide from the pain and anger in those eyes. 

_She was not him_.

“If you do not think he did _everything_ in his power, that he is not haunted by it, that he does not _grieve_ with you... then you do not know the same Dwarf I do.” Bilbo said softly. He was no warrior to shout down an opponent, he was no _threat_ to her, he was just a _Hobbit._

“Dwalin is the most loyal of Dwarves, and he _loved_ them.” Bilbo finished. She knew that, she _must_ , she just needed to let herself _see_ it. Dis was a good ruler, Mirra was right there, she was just holding this one blind spot in her grief. 

It hurt Dwalin and it hurt Maylin and it hurt Leis, it likely even hurt Dis herself, or he would be tempted to let it lie. 

Unless he was terribly mistaken about Lady Dis' character, all it would take was just a nudge. This one here. 

After an eternal moment where he did not break eye contact, did not even dare blink – something seemed to crack in her and her eyes traveled to the side of him, to Dwalin. 

Dwalin dropped his gaze down to his tattooed hands, “I tried.” he choked out, “I couldn't...” his hands flexed uselessly, “I wasn't _enough_.” 

If she could see this grief that Dwalin usually hid behind stoic duty and loyalty, a sharp axe and a gruff expression, and _still_ treat him as she had, then she was not the friend Bilbo had come to know in these months in Nurgathol. 

Lady Dis looked away, closing her eyes as she stepped back to sink down in her chair, and they had grieved together enough for Bilbo to recognize the set of her shoulders. 

Bilbo was at her side immediately, squeezing her strong hand in his, a hand on her shoulder, rubbing it soothingly as tears began to fall through her closed lids. He shot a _look_ at Dwalin, gesturing him toward the basket with his eyes, and Dwalin obeyed in surprise. The big warrior really _hadn't_ believed this would work. 

Dwalin handed over one of the still-hot spiced apple turnovers and poured a cup of tea from the thermos to Bilbo, and Dis accepted them from him as she wiped her eyes with the pocket handkerchief he'd lent her. 

“I am left to blame no one but myself...” her eyes begged him for _some other_ answer. 

“Blame the orcs.” He told her, “Blame the dragon.” He accepted a turnover for himself from Dwalin too. He could _certainly_ use a little something to steady himself again. 

“I cannot _hurt_ the orcs or the dragon.” she said, and that was far more awareness of her inner motivations than he'd expected of her. 

“You could hurt every living creature in Middle Earth and it _still_ would not bring them back to you.” Bilbo tried to keep his tone gentle, but she still flinched from it. 

He ate his turnover, and sipped his cup of tea, and she followed his example, and it _did_ seem to help steady her. It might not be the Dwarven way, the but Hobbit way of soothing hurts did seem to help. 

When she seemed composed he left her with one final squeeze to her hand, returning to his chair to divvy up the tarts – saving some aside for Leis so she would not miss getting to have them. 

Lady Dis wiped at her eyes again one final time with his handkerchief, accepting another tart. She gave Bilbo a small sad smile. 

“...the diplomat you would have made...” She mused. “You would have had no equal. Where _did_ you learn it?” 

“I have a _lot_ of relatives, and they don't all get along.” He answered. “I learned it purely out of self-preservation.” 

Her smile seemed slightly less sad for a moment before she turned to Dwalin, and the sorrow in her eyes there, now that it was not hidden by anger, was painful even to _see_. 

“Why are you in Nurgathol, Dwalin?” She asked. 

“My loyalty is to the descendants of Thror in the line of Durin.” he answered, “To _you_ , and my Maylin's is to Leis and to you.” 

“Then _why_ did you take so long to return?” she asked, and she looked so _young_ , a child begging for answers from someone she trusted. How much younger than Dwalin was she? What had he been to her in her youth, when her people wandered the wilds searching for a home? Bilbo sat back and was quiet. His part in this was over now. 

“I thought you would come.” Dwalin answered, “I thought to stand at the right hand of my Queen on the throne of Erebor. Dain has offered it freely to you...”

“I am certain he does.” she said coldly, “That mountain took my sons, it took nearly _everything_ from me. It is a death-trap he would like to be well rid of, but he can _keep_ it. I will _never_ set foot in that place.” 

“I know.” Dwalin said sadly, and they both lapsed into silence. Bilbo poured more tea for them all to fill it and sat back again. 

“You will not return.” Dwalin finally said, nodding his agreement, “but isolating Nurgathol is not best for anyone. You could open trade.” 

“Trade?” Lady Dis sounded bitter, “What does _Nurgathol_ have to offer to Erebor?” 

“We are Dwarves.” Dwalin leaned forward intently, “If we work in gold and mithril or in brass, in emeralds and rubies or in common quartz, in the finest marbles and jades or in rough granite – our crafts have _worth_. You will find no finer craftspeople than live in Nurgathol.” 

Lady Dis' eyes traveled over her sitting room, things made of brass and quartz and granite, nothing that Bilbo was learning to understand was _worth_ much, but all of it beautiful and serviceable. 

“And you have your sons' seventh share of Erebor's treasure.” Dwalin continued, but that was the _wrong_ thing to say. 

“Do not _speak_ to me of that treasure! It drove my grandfather and my brother mad, I will have nothing to do with it!” she snapped, “I will not risk it turning me against those I love.” The way her pale blue eyes flicked to Bilbo left no doubt she was thinking of Thorin and his story. 

“Of course.” Dwalin said, “Gloin could explain it better, the way he did for us all in the Company, treating it as an investment – Nurgathol could benefit from an easier budget.” 

“ _Could_ he...” Lady Dis thought that over, and Bilbo sat back and sipped his tea as Lady Dis and Dwalin spoke about the future of Nurgathol and possible relations with Erebor. 

Bilbo supposed he'd always thought of Dwalin as the muscle and Balin the brain of their sibling pair, but it was clear that Dwalin understood much more about politics and finance and trade than Bilbo had expected. He supposed he couldn't be surprised, he'd likely had the same education as Balin. 

He would be useful standing at Lady Dis' right hand, and not just as intimidation. 

Bilbo smiled, and sipped his tea. 

He'd known it would work. She'd just needed a little _push_. 


	6. hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cute family time.

Mirra came home, ruddy-cheeked and grinning, smelling of hot metal. She had been in a much better mood since she could return to working at the forge as much as she liked.

She scooped little Lorra out of Bombur's arms, giving him a peck on the cheek as she did, and settled down to nurse the little one with a sigh of relief.

Bilbo smiled and continued peeling potatoes with Bombur and Forra while Sorra and Borra abandoned them to snuggle with their mother and ask about her day.

Bofur was carving a little wooden animal while Sidgra and Vegdra were going over their weapons and armor and pretending to try to flirt with him. It had been surprising at first, how flirtatious they were, until Bilbo realized it was just a game. They flirted with _everyone_ , even each other.

There was enough room in the house for everyone to have their own space, but still everyone was all piled into the big kitchen to be close to each other.

It was warm, and friendly, and _family_ , and Bilbo didn't know how he'd _ever_ thought living alone in an empty smial was _alright_. He did enjoy his solitude at times, but it was only nice in _contrast_ to companionship.

“Here, Bilbo...” Mirra said, digging into one of her pockets when Bilbo was done helping with the potatoes. He wiped his hands on a towel and stepped up, curious, to accept what she was handing him.

“For your hair, it's more than long enough to braid, now!” she smiled, placing a hair clip and a pair of matching aglets in his hand.

They were gorgeous, and he smiled as he recognized the design in the metal as pea flowers done in a blocky dwarven style. He'd been so proud of his peas, producing through the entire summer in the cool of the great cavern, it was no wonder she'd chosen them as the design.

And it was true his hair was utterly out of control. He didn't know _how_ Hobbit ladies put up with having _so much_ hair. His curls were everywhere, but Bofur loved it so much he couldn't bear to cut it.

He'd opened his mouth to thank her when he remembered Lady Dis' questions so long ago...

 _...did he give you braids, beads, jewelry of any kind_...

His throat clenched, and he forced himself not to drop them. He was _safe_ here, he was safe. He just had to be _sure_ exactly what this gesture meant.

“They're beautiful.” He said, and Mirra smiled. “If... if I accept these...”

There was sad understanding in her eyes as she shook her head, “If we were courting it would mean a promise. It's just a gift to a friend.”

“Then thank you.” He said, running his thumb over the pretty design as he reached up to touch his hair with his other hand.

“But if I were to ask Bofur to help tame my hair with them?” he asked.

“Then it would be a promise.” She said, and Bofur's head was ducked where he bent to his task of carving, not looking at him. “Saying you love each other like you do would already be a promise, if you weren't a Hobbit.” She continued, readjusting Borra who's elbow was digging into her.

“I see.” Bilbo said. He could probably figure out how to use the clip to keep his hair back himself, it was not such a complicated thing...

But why should he?

Yes, he'd escaped being tied to Thorin out of the luck that he was a Hobbit and they'd never shared a symbol of commitment, but _Bofur_ was not Thorin. Bilbo had been with him much longer than he'd ever been with Thorin, and he was gentle and kind. He would let Bilbo run away from it, avoid it, for as long as he needed to, but there was no denying that _both_ of them were already completely committed to this relationship.

Bofur would not hurt him, he _had_ to trust that, and if he ever did need to go, Bofur would let him.

He had to _believe_ that.

Bilbo took a deep, deep breath.

“Bofur.” he said quietly, holding out the pretty hair clip and aglets, Bofur looked up at him with his warm brown eyes wide with surprise.

“Would you please help me braid my hair?”


	7. the Shire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Bofur are back in the Shire.

All it took was a single moment of forgetting himself. 

It had been so _good_ to be home – not that Nurgathol hadn't become _home_ too – but it was _so good_ to wander his property and decide what to plant and where. The container garden had been lovely, but he was looking forward to a _real_ garden!

It was wonderful to be in Bag End again with Bofur – getting Bofur settled into the master bedroom with him instead of off in the guest room. It was wonderful to be able to buy _proper_ pipe weed and all the fresh scrumptious foods you just couldn't _get_ in a Dwarven settlement. 

He'd caused a bit of a stir, returning with Bofur in tow and his hair so long and braided, but it had settled into comfortable gossip quickly enough. The Overhills and the Tolmans had been happy to see Bofur, and were already planning what work they could give him. Bilbo's relatives who disapproved had already disapproved of him since his first adventure, so that wasn't much of a loss. There were a few hurt feelings to soothe, but coming to tea with some of his _very best_ baked goods had smoothed that over nicely. 

Perhaps best of all – Lobelia Bracegirdle had apparently decided that his cousin Otho Sackville-Baggins was a better way of inheriting Bag End and had already managed to marry him by the time Bilbo came back to Hobbiton. Maybe she figured that Bilbo would disappear for good on one of his adventures sooner than later and it would be hers. 

Or maybe she _did_ love Otho. Who was he to say?

The Shire was lovely in the spring, and the only thing that could have made it better was if Bilbo didn't have to _hide_ who Bofur was to him. They didn't really hide all that much – Bofur carried the market basket for him, and they braided each other's hair out on the bench during their morning smoke when the weather was nice – it was just spontaneous little affections that Bilbo found himself squelching. They didn't kiss in public, and he didn't hold Bofur's hand when they went walking, or tell him he loved him any time but when they were alone. 

They'd kept their relationship a secret because such things weren't _done_ in the Shire, but all it took was a single moment of Bilbo forgetting himself. 

They'd been going over the plans for the garden, he and Ham with Bofur trailing along smiling and obviously not understanding most of what they were talking about. 

“and I was talking with old Farmer Maggot at market and he said he'd give us a few of his Purple Bumblebee cherry tomato starts if we'd give him some of your Pink Oxhearts?” Ham asked hopefully. 

“Of course!” Bilbo could hardly believe the _luck_. Farmer Maggot was so _protective_ of his tomato lines, it was a rare chance to be so trusted – though of course it was always best not to have all of a seed line in one place in case a crop failed. And he thought Bilbo's own Oxhearts were worth trading with his _Bumblebees_? 

“Bofur!” Bilbo had grabbed him without thinking, tangling his fingers in the Dwarf's lovely rough braids, “We're going to grow _purple bumblebees_!” and he kissed him. 

Kissing Bofur was just what he'd gotten used to _doing_ when he got excited. All it took was a single moment of forgetting himself, of forgetting that they were not alone and had to hide. 

Behind him, Hamfast dropped his shovel and broke into a coughing fit. 

 

Bilbo froze in his arms, perfect smoke sapphire eyes widening with horrified realization and fear, and all Bofur could do was wrap his arms around him tight, tucking the Hobbit's face against his neck to keep him _safe_. 

Ham's eyes were _very_ round, staring at them, and Bofur grinned at him even as he could feel Bilbo's heart hammering to match his own. 

…if the worst happened they could _always_ go back to Nurgathol. Bofur could even afford to buy land outside the great cavern for Bilbo to grow plants, as much land as he wanted even though it would _never_ be the Shire... 

But that shouldn't happen. Ham was a kind lad, Bofur just had to _explain_.

“These braids.” He said to the wide-eyed gardener, running his hand over the simple braids he'd given Bilbo, “They mean Bilbo and I are good as married, among Dwarves!” 

“...but...” Ham pointed at Bofur... at Bilbo with his other hand, his brow wrinkled with thought. He looked down at his hands in confusion, touching his index fingers together. 

Then he shrugged and dropped his hands. 

“So you'd be like auntie...” He stopped himself, blushing and coughing discreetly. He scratched his head. Bilbo pushed slightly away from Bofur to glance hopefully at the young Hobbit. 

“So, Dwarves use braids?” Ham asked. 

“Hair is for kin.” Bofur told him, nodding. 

“Letting someone braid your hair is like... accepting a bouquet of red roses and ivy.” Bilbo added, which seemed to explain more to Ham than what Bofur had said. The gardener nodded and picked his shovel back up. 

“Dwarves ways are very strange.” he said, “Now the bumblebees don't need soil as sweet as the oxhearts do, so I was thinking...” and he was off talking about gardening again, which Bofur still couldn't follow unless Bilbo slowed it down and explained to him. 

Bilbo looked up at Bofur with a small sparkle of hope in his beautiful gray-blue eyes – then he'd run off after young Ham, pulling Bofur along with their fingers tangled together as he chattered on about what to plant where. 

Bofur breathed a sigh of relief as he tried to keep up with two excitedly gardening Hobbits. 

It was going to be alright.

And maybe they wouldn't have to _hide_ so much anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for Smoke Sapphire sides!   
> I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.   
> You can find me on tumblr - thorinsmut.tumblr.com  
> I love you all, your comments are what keep me writing!   
> <3  
> -Ts


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